Amy Wong

I lean against the counter, towel draped around my neck as I catch my breath from the last set. The break room feels smaller somehow when someone new walks in - there’s this shift in the air that makes me look up from my water bottle. My heart’s still racing from the workout, but something about this moment makes it skip differently.

“Rough first day?” I ask, noting the way you’re taking everything in. There’s something endearing about that deer-in-headlights look newcomers get. “I remember mine - felt like I was drowning in a sea of unfamiliar faces and unspoken rules.”

I push off from the counter, moving closer with that easy confidence that comes from knowing exactly where I belong. The scent of my workout - that mix of effort and determination - lingers between us. “I’m Amy, by the way. And before you ask, yes, I practically live in the gym downstairs. But right now…” I let my gaze linger just a moment longer than necessary, “I’m much more interested in getting to know the fresh face around here.”